Breaking Point
by Yuval25
Summary: Sitting in a cold, iced street, the only thing Albus could do was accept help from a passing stranger. "What about your wife?" "She doesn't have to know," Albus soon finds himself dealing with attraction and forbidden secrets. "It's against the law." Please R&R! Rated M by the new definition of M.


_So... Yeah. Hi. I feel really really bad for writing this. I've never done anything like it. Not done... well yeah, I haven't done... but I haven't written anything like it. It began as something and turned into something else after I read something that was really something... Never mind. Just... I put this under the raiting M becuase, well, just because. I wouldn't let a thirteen year old read that. And just because I think I should mention it - I'm not a pedophile, if anyone gets that idea of me reading this story._

_Anyways, this is my first actual multi-chapter story! I'm willing to continue it if I see positive and/or negative feedback. I don't own Harry Potter and it's characters. Enjoy ;) Have you noticed the winking smiley? Yeah, a normal one didn't feel right in this particular AN._

**Breaking Point**

**Take Me**

It was raining. The cold air swished around him forcibly, leaving him shaking on the ice-clad ground. Alone, alone and miserable he sat. From a distance he could see the flicker of light where a redhead woman added wood to the fading flames in the fireplace. Families were laughing and singing Christmas songs in their homes, wrapped in heavy jumpers and warm socks.

The tears left freezing trails on his cheeks and he could feel the blue sensation in his lips. He pursed them, hoping to end the numbness in the soft flesh. It didn't work. He could barely move his mouth.

He tried to think warm thoughts; the summer in his grandparents' house, the beads of sweat sliding down his neck as he helped weeding the school's gardens, the exhausted heat after a practice, the scalding soup his mother made, the feeling of Scorpius's hot hands on his back… He coughed violently, cursing the stinging, cold air that entered his lungs when he struggled to inhale. His green eyes were closed, unable to resist the cover his eyelids supplied.

What was he doing here? He kept asking himself the same question over and over, not finding the answer. The winter winds swooshed in his ears, cutting off his concentration every time he managed to grasp a hold of his most recent memories. How did he get here?

Someone passed by. They ignored him, thinking him to be a homeless boy. He was not. But they didn't know that and kept on walking, not saying a word, not offering a shelter for the holy night. Nothing. He wondered what he would have done. Would he have lent a hand? Would he have taken them into his home, given them a good Christmas dinner, let them sleep in his bed? Would he have?

The house almost glowed in the darkness of the night. The lights shone bright in red and green, making him let out a small smile at his favorite colors. Should he go there? Should he stay here? He asked himself every few seconds. What should he do now?

His wand lay at home, unreachable. Every human connection was lost. He had no one.

He opened his eyes slightly, struck by the freezing air. His shallow breathe came out in visible white steams.

"Sir?" someone asked. It was a low voice, a deep bass that echoed in Albus's internal organs like a drum. He didn't look up. What if someone recognized him? But what if they didn't? Should he look up, then?

He didn't.

He could hear heavy footsteps getting closer to him. A shadow fell on his figure, dark and threatening, making him shiver in fear.

"Hey, are you okay? What are you doing out here in this weather?" the man asked.

Albus could see his expensive-looking shoes peeking under high-quality fabric. The man appeared to be wearing a suit of some sorts. He couldn't see his upper body, but from the shoes he could tell it was a muggle man. He didn't dare look up, though.

Someone touched him. He flinched weakly, pushing himself farther against the wall. His soaked, thin jumper made a splashing noise as the water squeezed out of it.

"It's okay. It's alright." The man reassured. "How about we get you somewhere warm?"

What if he was lying? What if he intended to hurt him, rape him? Albus's mind worked too slowly for him to make the decision. The man decided for him.

He grabbed Albus's frozen hand that was clutching his knees and wrapped an arm around his trembling figure, hugging him to his tall body. Albus couldn't resist leaning into the touch, sticking his head in the curve of the man's neck while he picked him up, holding him by his knees and upper back. Albus's legs dangled uselessly on the side as he brought his hands up to curl into the front of the man's black coat. The warmth was incredible, after spending hours and hours in the cold street.

"My house is just a block away. My wife, Linda, is waiting there. I think it is best that we get something hot in you as soon as possible." The man said, bending his head down so that the wind hit less harshly against Albus's cheek and ear. His hair was not long enough to cover either.

Albus wondered if he should have resisted, if he should resist now. After all, it was a stranger carrying him. He didn't know him. He didn't even know if he had a wife. Linda was a pretty popular name in the muggle world, so maybe he just made it up. If he had said 'Mary', Albus might have seriously considered jumping away from him and breaking into the fastest run he could manage with his weak legs.

As the man walked, his steps calculated and heavier now that he held Albus in his arms, Albus peeked up at his face. It was hard to see beyond the ice layer that covered his lashes, but he could make out a nose, and two eyes, and a mouth. He was human, at least. Focusing more closely, he could see the blue color of the irises and the dark eyebrows and hair. The man was young, no more than thirty, if Albus had to guess.

And he was handsome. Oh, yes. Almost as handsome Scorpius on a bad day covered with mud and grim, and that said something. Albus was glad at the blush that covered his cheeks, making them pale white instead of the sickening blue he was sure they used to be just a minute ago. The shape of the man's jaw was fascinating, and Albus found that he couldn't look away.

A sharp pain in his toes awoke him to the sad reality that the numbness was gone from his feet. He was beginning to feel the pain as it should have been. He wished he'd stayed in the cold.

The man halted. Albus looked at his eyes questioningly. What was he trying to do? Did he bring him to an even more isolated place? Did he actually do want to harass him?

"We're here. Don't worry. You're going to be just fine." The soft, deep voice said.

A door opened and suddenly the freezing, cold air disappeared and was replaced by warm and Albus could finally breathe. There was no sound apart from the light footsteps nearing them, and the man's frenzied breathe.

"John?" a high voice rang. It was obviously a lady's. Albus thought to himself that if the woman ever chose to sing, she would do it well. Really well, as her voice was like a lullaby. The combination of it and the warmth was making him sleepy.

There was a gasp.

"John!" more distressed now, worried. "Are you okay? Who is this? Oh, dear. Oh, John put him on the couch."

The man started walking again, his steps hurried.

And then Albus was at heaven. His head was placed on something soft, as was the rest of his body. It was like resting on a cloud. The feeling of heat was making his head spin pleasantly as he exhaled loudly. He was no longer curled into a ball, but stretched over the blissful material. His skin felt like it prickled.

His clothes were being peeled from his body, and he wondered if he should do something to stop those big, strong hands from taking them off. Should he?

Too late. He was now naked on the slightly wet cushion. He didn't even feel guilty that he probably ruined the couple's couch. All that mattered was the warmth, the heavenly feeling of pleasure and not-cold that he was experiencing.

He was lying on his stomach, his head turned left and his cheek resting against a pillow. His eyes were closed from the moan-worthy sensation.

Something fell on him. It was light. He realized it was a blanket. He didn't resist. He accepted the blanket with a grateful sigh. He wanted to tell them how much he appreciated what they were doing, but couldn't remember how to form the words. He probably looked pathetic, all dirty and icy. It was really a wonder they didn't throw him out as soon as he'd wrecked their couch.

He didn't even feel shame when the man, John, had pulled his clothes off him. He supposed he should have, but he couldn't find it in him to feel sorry for feeling so good. The blanket was definitely worth it.

As he lay there, he thought about his dad. What would he say if he saw his son right now, in this situation? He probably would be humiliated, never go into public again. His sibling would ban him from being their brother, and his mother would… well, she would probably pack him a bag and give him money to stay at a hotel for the rest of his life. She was always like that. His many uncles and aunts and cousins would probably never speak to him again.

He felt tears gather in his red and swollen eyes. How did he have so many tears to shed? It hurt when they touched the tender skin of his eyes. He raised one hand, which was not so frozen anymore, and touched the pillow that the man placed beneath his head. It was wet where his hair dripped on it and his tears fell.

He opened his eyes to see the man smiling down at him. The man's blues were colored with worry for him, a frown forming in his eyebrows with every second Albus failed to say anything.

"It's going to be okay," was all he said. Albus couldn't find the strength to nod that he heard him and just continued looking at him.

Someone entered the room they were in. From his position, Albus could see a lovely white dress hanging off pale flesh. He tried to look higher, but his eyes wouldn't allow that. He was too tired.

"John? May I speak with you for a moment?" the woman said.

The man got up, flashing Albus a smile as he passed him and turned to leave with the woman.

He couldn't hear what they said, but he got the feeling it was about him. The woman wanted him out of there.

"Maybe we should call the police," he heard her murmur when she raised her voice just enough for him to catch the words.

Albus's heart beat faster in panic. Were they sending him back to the frozen streets? Would they kick him out? His breath started coming in short gasps.

Was he right? Did they have enough of him ruining their home like that?

But where would he go? He had no one, nowhere to go. He didn't know where he was, apart from being in England (it was obvious from the couple's accent) and he couldn't get back home without a wand. He couldn't even apparated.

The footsteps were reaching the couch he was lying on just as he let out a small, helpless whimper. He crunched his eyes shut, ashamed of the weak sound that escaped from his lips.

"How are you feeling?" he heard from somewhere close to his face. His eyes opened and widened in surprise as he saw the small distance between him and the man's handsome features. It was striking.

Albus tried to talk but felt his throat burn. He coughed weakly, his face crunching in agony as the fierce, hot pain pierced through his windpipe.

The man's eyes grew bigger and he turned around. "Linda, could you bring us a glass of warm tea, please? Not too hot." He said, his voice far from a shout but louder than his usual speech.

"Coming right up, dear," was the response from the direction of what Albus guessed was the kitchen.

The man turned to face him again, and Albus's breathe caught in his throat. Why was he so nervous? The man leant forward.

"Your lips are blue," the man whispered, his face closing to Albus's. Albus could feel heat gathering in his face, reddening all the way down to his chest. Just then the man's gaze fell on his neck, which made him blush even harder.

The sound of the kettle boiling made them both look towards the source of the noise. After a few clangs of cupboards being opened and closed, and glass hitting against plastic, the woman, Linda, entered Albus's sight.

"There you go, dear." She gave her husband the cup which was full to the brim with hot tea. "I mixed tap water with hot water to make it more drinkable." She chuckled, her eyes shining as she leant to give the man a kiss on the lips. Albus looked away.

She left, leaving Albus alone with the man, which made Albus feel something he couldn't quite identify. It surely couldn't be nervousness. Surely.

Albus looked up as the man started talking. "You better sit up for this. Can't have you choking," there was a small, nice laugh. Albus thought to himself that he would like to hear that laugh again.

He struggled to lift himself off the couch to a sitting position. A hand touched his bare back, helping him up. Albus held the covers to his body, somewhat embarrassed but excited at the same time. He wanted that tea. He'd fantasized about that tea. He's been craving it for hours.

He greedily opened his mouth as the man held the cup to his lips, taking a small sip. Oh, god. _The taste!_ The slightly bitter taste of real tea burning his colder-than-usual tongue delightfully as it washed his mouth of the dry ache. He took a bigger sip, one that could be described as even a gulp, and sputtered it over the white blanket and the man's hand as he couldn't swallow so much in his state.

The man patiently removed the cup and placed it on the floor beside the couch, leaning over Albus's body to reach for a small, white towel and wiped his wet lips and chin. The towel was had a rougher texture than the blanket or the dark red pillow, but it was pleasant all the same. The threads were soft and Albus relished in the feeling. As the towel was moved lower, to his neck (which was _not_ wet), Albus's eyes snapped to look at the man, whose eyes raked over the exposed parts of Albus's body. Admittedly, it was only his neck and part of his chest and waist, and maybe a sliver of his hip and back, but Albus flushed as if on demand. He didn't remark on it, however, and didn't slap and towel-holding hand away.

His mouth was open from before, his lips now red from the hot temperature of the tea and the grazing of the towel. His eyes were still puffy and pink, he would bet. His nose might just be slightly runny, but nothing noticeable. Yeah, he wasn't the perfect image for 'seductive' or even 'attractive'. And he didn't know why he even thought of those things.

Maybe because the man's eyes took in every single detail of his naked body, or maybe because the towel now trailed lower to his chest. Albus felt like he was stuck in a muggle microwave again (Lily's fault, don't ask). His hands were laying awkwardly in his lap, his thumbs beating in a rhythm different from his heart. His ears burned, throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

Then the man drew back, taking the sinister towel with him. Albus noticed he was gasping, while the man seemed to be breathing regularly. Did he just imagine the scene just about now? Was it only a figment of his imagination? The man didn't seem to notice anything was wrong. Maybe Albus was daydreaming. Maybe it was wishful thinking. But wishful for _what_?

Albus knew he was just trying to fill the hole in his heart that was left from Scorpius's leaving. He knew it was just a false attraction and his stupid hormones. And he hated that his body had so much control over his mind, because he knew that, as much as it disturbed him, he _liked_ what just happened. And he wanted to do it again.

"How about you go to sleep? We could talk about everything in the morning," the man said.

Albus nodded, his gaze still fixed upon the board shoulders and strong jaw. It was curiously attractive. It was not perfect, but the odd angle Albus was looking from must have interfered with his eyesight.

"If you need anything, you can just call me and I'll be right here. The bathroom is through this door," the man pointed at a wooden, cheap-looking door a few feet away. "But I think it's best if you don't get up so much. Your muscles must be terribly tense from the cold."

The man guided Albus gently back down, supporting his back and shoulders. Albus thought he might have a permanent blush if he couldn't control his teenager feelings.

"Thank you," he managed to breathe, alerting the man slightly.

The man smiled widely, exposing his two sets of white teeth beneath the pink lips Albus's eyes lingered on. "You're welcome."

He left the room – a sitting room, Albus noticed as he saw the flat TV hanging from the wall – and disappeared through a doorway which was missing the actual door. It must have been intentional, as there were no hinges. He couldn't hear a door closing, so he assumed the man had left the door open should he call out.

Albus was tired already, and the somewhat exciting activity he'd just been involved in drained him even more. He couldn't even think of what his next step could be, not to mention how he would get home. He just wanted to sleep. He was safe, warm and had an actual bathroom to use if he needed (which, surprisingly, he didn't at the moment), and he was content. And tired.

Closing his eyes slowly, letting the blackness spread until it covered it sight completely, Albus drifted off to a dreamless sleep.


End file.
